


the blizzard that almost took down spider-man

by bstarship



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker Can't Thermoregulate, Peter Parker Has a Crush, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Tony Stark Has A Heart, because he's a nerd, peter hates snow days, unlike his fellow classmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bstarship/pseuds/bstarship
Summary: Peter landed roughly on the top of a fire escape with a sigh. Crap, crap, bad idea. Totally bad idea. His muscles seized, and his expression winced at the feeling of the icy metal beneath his hands and feet. So, he climbed up to the roof to catch his breath, but the second he let himself relax, the violent shivers returned.“C’mon,” he whispered to himself, breathing deeply in an attempt to ease his tension. “C’mon, Peter. D-do it for MJ.”The cold had penetrated every inch of his suit, and snow coated his shoulders like a thick blanket. This was a mistake. A stupid, idiotic mistake that could have waited until the next day at school. Or, maybe the snow had been a sign. Maybe he should have kept his feelings to himself. Nevertheless, it was too late for that now. He was too far from home to turn back, but—shit, he couldn’t feel his feet. He couldn’t feel his hands or his nose either. He could hardly think about anything but the chatter of his teeth.What the hell was he doing?orPeter is too caught up in his feelings to realize that spiders and two feet of snow don't mix well at all. It's fine. He'll learn his lesson.
Relationships: Karen (Spider-Man: Homecoming) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 129





	the blizzard that almost took down spider-man

**Author's Note:**

> i've been MIA for two months and that's bc i have no idea what to write anymore but hi how is everyone ! love u n miss u all <3
> 
> i dusted off my keyboard to write u this small whump abt a semi-lovesick peter parker who is also a dumbass

_“Good morning students, staff, and parents. This is a message from Principal Morita at Midtown School of Science and Technology. Due to the weather forecast, we will be closed today, Wednesday, February 14th. Once again, the school will be closed today, February 14th. This includes the cancellation of after-school activities and sporting events. Thank you, and enjoy the snow.”_

“No, no, _no_. You’ve gotta be kidding me. _C’mon._ ” 

With a soft groan, Peter sat up in bed, allowing his comforter pool at his waist as the school’s phone call echoed throughout the apartment. Out of every potential obstacle that could have ruined this day, a school cancellation was the last on his mind. He had even conjured up a doomsday protocol in case of the world’s sudden, catastrophic end. He would have preferred to have the E-train run an hour late over _this_. 

A sigh left his lips as he checked the time on his phone. Quarter ‘til six in the morning. _Fantastic._ If that day had gone according to plan, he most likely would have awoken at this time to begin with. His nerves had been eating away at his stomach ever since he bought her that greeting card at Manton’s last week. It was only a card, a stupidly cheesy Valentine’s Day card with hearts and gushy words all over the front—something she would find either repulsive or hysterical. But it was Peter’s chance to tell her how he felt. 

Emphasis on the word _was_. His pathetic teenage Valentine’s Day plan had been sabotaged by the few inches of snow coating the streets. And it would only get worse from there. 

He pushed his face down into his pillow and groaned again. No, _no_ , there was no way he was going to give up. Not a chance. He had been making excuses for months, only saying hi to her in the hallway or watching her from afar without making it _too_ creepy. If he didn’t tell MJ how he felt now, then he was never going to. He had put it off for far too long. 

Peter shot up out of bed and clenched his jaw. There was no turning back. The day had started, and some crappy snowstorm was not going to ruin it. 

First, a shower, some breakfast, and maybe a crime podcast or two to ease his anxiety. _Yeah_ , he thought as he smiled, _it’s gonna be a good day. A great one._

Ten minutes later, Peter went back to bed. It was way too early to be strategizing a plan just to give MJ some flimsy card. He crawled under his covers, took one last glimpse at the snow that illuminated the rising sun, and turned off his alarm. 

The next time he woke up, it was to another phone call around ten o’clock that morning. Ned, however, was unlike the type to leave a string of desperate voicemails. He would keep calling until Peter picked up; he knew that he always would eventually. Along with a dozen unanswered phone calls sat a hundred more texts _at least_.

“Dude, what?” Peter said, rubbing his closed eyes as a headache split between them. He could hear the snow falling outside, loud and heavy in his ears while it appeared peaceful to the rest of the city. “I’m asleep.”

“We don’t have school today.”

“Oh, wow, thanks Captain Obvious,” he muttered dryly. “Is that what you’re calling me about? Cos’ I’ve known, man. I’ve known for like, five hours. Where’ve you been?”

Ned let out a small huff on the other end. “You don’t have to be mean. I just woke up, too.”

“Sorry, _sorry_. I know.”

“Are you mad?”

“What?” Peter sat up and furrowed his brows. His headache shot up to his temples. “No. Why would I be mad?”

“You just seem upset,” Ned said. “Is it because your plan is ruined now?”

“My plan?”

As if anyone was able to hear their conversation, Ned’s voice lowered into a hushed whisper so he could say, “your Valentine’s Day plan. Y’know, the one with MJ?”

Peter groaned and leaned against his knees. He hadn’t _forgotten_ per se, although he didn’t particularly enjoy the reminder. His nerves burned all the way down to his toes. “Right,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. “That one. It’s—it’s not even a plan. It’s just a stupid card. She’d hate it anyway. I’m figuring it out.”

“Couldn’t you just do it tomorrow?”

“I _could_ , but—” He sighed, falling back against his pillow. “I wanted it to be today. It needs to be today. She hates Valentine’s Day, so I was hoping that maybe this could change things. I don’t know. I just like her, and I wanted to make her smile.” He winced. “That was cheesy.”

Ned chuckled through the phone. “You’re in love.”

“Shut up. No.”

“So, what’re you gonna do?”

Peter shrugged to himself. “Maybe go over to her place,” he said. “Stick the card in her mailbox, I guess.”

“But it’s still snowing.”

Another sigh left him as he stared out the window. The snow was falling in large, fat clumps, but the buildings across the street were still visible to the naked eye. It would be impossible to ask May to drive in these conditions, but maybe if the trains were still… 

Who was he kidding? He was Peter Parker. He was Spider-Man. He didn’t need help.

“Ned, I’ll call you back,” Peter said as a tiny smile grew on his lips. 

“Hey, wait—would you wanna play PUBG later?” Ned asked. “When you get back from MJ’s?

“Oh, hell yeah, dude, don’t start without me.”

“Be careful out there,” Ned advised softly. “Don’t go all Spider-Popsicle on me. Or Popsicle-Man. Which would it be? It doesn’t matter. Just be safe.”

Peter let out a chuckle while he stood up to find a pair of pants. “I’ll be _fine_. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Like always, Peter underestimated the severity of the situation. Instead of thinking critically, he was stuck thinking in theoretics. His heart was stuck in a never-ending cycle of what-ifs, but for the life of him, all he could do was admire was the end of the line. Not the journey. He pictured himself at MJ’s doorstep, placing that dumb little card in her mailbox before swinging away. And he pictured her reaction—her genuine smile that he rarely got to see during the school day. Not once did he imagine himself actually _getting_ to her apartment. 

None of that seemed to matter as he stepped into his suit, hair damp from his shower and stomach comfortably full from breakfast. May was too busy on the phone with their landlord about frozen pipes to notice her nephew slip out. He guaranteed that would be back before the call ended. MJ lived one or two neighborhoods over, and the snow continued to fall steadily; Peter was confident that he would be so fast, his nose wouldn’t even have the chance to redden. 

“Oh, _shit,_ it’s brisk out here,” he muttered to himself as he touched down on a nearby rooftop. The foot of snow beneath him crunched on impact, and he could feel its chill seep through the suit. “Karen, how’s it hangin’?”

“It’s hanging quite well,” his AI answered. “It’s cold out, Peter—twelve below freezing. And it will be snowing for another four hours. Why are you outside?”

A shiver ran over him as he rubbed his hands together. “Well, there’s this _girl_ —”

“Liz?”

Peter’s heart twisted for a moment, but he shook his head before letting out a laugh. “N-no, no,” he said. “Not Liz. Gosh, I hope she’s doin’ okay. But, no, this—this girl… well, her name is Michelle. But we call her MJ. Listen, do you think you could lead me to her apartment?” 

“Sure thing, Peter,” Karen said. “Just tell me where she lives.” 

Once he stuttered out a chopped-up version of MJ’s address, Karen was quick to map out the location. The red line in his heads-up display ended—thanks to Karen’s genius coding—with a tacky heart over MJ’s place, and Peter rolled his eyes at the sight. Nevertheless, an amused smile toyed on his lips, and he couldn’t stop the ache that found a new home in his chest. _Crap_ , had he been this nervous before? His fingers felt numb. 

“All right,” he breathed out, watching his breath freeze in the air before him, “I have to be home in like, ten minutes. Think we can swing it? Ha. _Swing._ ”

“Very funny,” Karen stated. “And, yes. If you leave now, it should only take five minutes to reach your final destination.”

Peter’s exhale trembled as he muttered, “awesome. Perfect. Th-thanks—thank you, Karen. You’re the best.”

“Are you okay, Peter?”

“Me?” he squeaked. He pointed at himself. “O-of course. Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be… okay, I’m just nervous. It’s fine. Jesus, it’s cold.” He hadn’t realized his teeth were chattering until he drew his arms to his chest. “Okay. Talk to you in a bit, Karen. Don’t tell Tony I’m doing this.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Snow kicked up against his shins on take off. As he swung down the street, flakes fluttered around him in heavy chunks, and he was starting to wish his mask had windshield wipers so he could see fifty feet in front of him. In his opinion, the conditions could have been worse, but still, it was goddamn _cold_. 

This motivated him to swing faster. If he worked up a sweat, then he would be fine; right? The cold had no way of bothering him if he exercised his muscles enough. But, the faster he swung, the more exerted he felt. 

Additionally, the freezing point of his webbing was growing dangerously close. A few degrees lower, and his body would splatter down on the pavement like a damn bug. A _real_ bug. 

Peter landed roughly on the top of a fire escape with a sigh. Crap, _crap_ , bad idea. Totally bad idea. His muscles seized, and his expression winced at the feeling of the icy metal beneath his hands and feet. So, he climbed up to the roof to catch his breath, but the second he let himself relax, the violent shivers returned. 

“C’mon,” he whispered to himself, breathing deeply in an attempt to ease his tension. “C’mon, Peter. D-do it for MJ.” 

The cold had penetrated every inch of his suit, and snow coated his shoulders like a thick blanket. This was a mistake. A stupid, idiotic mistake that could have waited until the next day at school. Or, maybe the snow had been a sign. Maybe he should have kept his feelings to himself. Nevertheless, it was too late for that now. He was too far from home to turn back, but— _shit,_ he couldn’t feel his feet. He couldn’t feel his hands or his nose either. He could hardly think about anything but the chatter of his teeth.

_What the hell was he doing?_

“Peter,” said a voice. 

“W-what?” he sputtered, holding his arms tight. “Who is—?”

“Peter, your core body temperature is dropping significantly.”

“Oh,” he breathed out. “Karen. H-hi.”

“It is urgent that you get yourself somewhere warm.”

He nodded. He was fine. It was fine. Had he been this tired before? How much sleep did he get last night? He didn’t know what he was doing outside anymore. He didn’t know where he was. 

A shaky hand reached out to feel the snowflakes falling around him. “It’s snowing,” he said. “I have t’keep—keep moving. Gotta get t’Ned’s.”

“You’re going to MJ’s.”

“T-to MJ’s.” Peter nodded again, letting his shoulders slump as he raised his hand out toward a neighboring building. “Gotta get to—get to MJ’s ‘fore I—”

His hand fell back down to his side as his knees buckled under him. The dense layer of snow was there to break the impact. By this point, he couldn’t feel the cold anymore, only the violent spasms that coursed through his muscles as his breathing turned ragged. His vision tunneled over while a red light flashed in his peripherals. There was a sound in his head, like a ringing or a beeping—something obnoxious, but he couldn’t care to listen. 

MJ’s card fell from his fingers and into the snow. He couldn’t move. Not only that, but his joints had frozen like rusted mechanisms locking in place. And he was tired. So unbelievably tired. 

“Jus’ gonna sit here,” he said over the persistent ringing in his mask. He hadn’t noticed his eyes close, and his muscles seemingly relaxed as he leaned over. “Jus’ gonna…”

Peter fell face-first into the snow, but all he could think about was the cold side of his pillow. He couldn’t smell the snow or feel the harsh, chilly breeze blow over his body. He couldn’t hear the low beep that had once echoed in his head. There was nothing else to Peter Parker that could stir him back to life. Not even a large cup of steaming hot chocolate could wake him now. Either he had fallen unconscious or fallen asleep, but none of that seemed to matter. He was comfortable. He was at peace.

* * *

Something poked his arm. Before he could assess what it was, he went to swat the feeling away, but it left as soon as he did. It was a needle; it had to be. Or a dog. A dog had found him and was nudging him awake. Or he was being kicked. Some street thug had beat him up and now they were checking to make sure he was dead. Or maybe he had fallen asleep on the couch again and May’s patience had worn thin. Whatever it was, it poked him again, and he let out a weak whine at the touch. 

“Stop,” he tried to say, but he wasn’t sure if the word passed his lips. His mind was hardly conscious, and he couldn’t pry his eyes open if he wanted to. 

A murmured sound met his ears as he slowly came to. Someone was standing over him, or near him, perhaps even beside him. By this point, there was no doubt he was knocked out in an alleyway somewhere, bleeding from his nose or lips with cracked shards of teeth on his tongue. He reached two fingers up to touch his mouth, but when he pulled back, his skin was dry. Okay, he thought, so he wasn’t bleeding. That was a good sign. 

He forced himself to blink after that, letting some form of light blind him momentarily as he winced. Whatever was above him, it was pure white and nothing but. Either he was in heaven or the dentist’s office, and he dreaded the idea of both. He wiggled his toes to gain some feeling in his limbs while he continued to force his consciousness. Now, he felt trapped. Weighed down by sleep or pain, something in between. The thing that had been poking his arm now settled on his shoulder to hold him down.

“Relax,” someone said. “You’re pretty sprightly for a dead guy.”

“A-a dead guy?” Peter croaked, sitting up as the blinding white dulled around him. He could make out blurred shapes and lines until they gradually sharpened around him. When he looked to his right, he quickly learned that the hand on his shoulder belonged to Tony Stark. “I’m not…”

Tony smirked and stepped back. “The Ice Queen has awoken. How’re you feeling?”

“Am I dead?”

“You should be,” he answered, folding his arms as a hard expression settled on his face. It was never a comforting look. “That, plus I was seconds away from killing you myself. But then May would’ve killed me, so I decided it was for the best if we both lived. Mister Parker, are you aware that spiders cannot thermoregulate?”

Peter blinked hazily before rubbing at his eyes. “I—no?”

Tony hummed, and as he sat at the foot of Peter’s bed—hospital bed—he slapped a hand down against the blanket covering his ankles. “I wasn’t either,” Tony said, “until today. Well, yesterday. You’ve been out for about—” He glanced at his watch. “—eighteen or so hours. Thanks to you, I haven’t slept a wink.”

“But you don’t sleep in general,” Peter mumbled. With each passing second, the fog in his brain dissipated, allowing awareness to seep in slowly. Unfortunately, his thoughts weren’t as coherent as his vision. He couldn’t think of why he was in this position in the first place. He wasn’t even bothered by the fact that Tony was here as well. 

Tony pointed a finger. “That’s rude,” he said, “but true. Can I ask you something, Pete?”

Hesitantly, Peter raised a brow, yet he nodded nevertheless. 

“Are you an idiot?”

“That’s… subjective.” 

“But, seriously—” Tony inched closer on the bed. “—did you not remember that I put a heater in your suit for reasons like this? So you wouldn’t—I don’t know—freeze to death? Beats me. Pretty damn obvious. So, what’s your excuse? Other than the fact that you might be an idiot.”

Peter frowned and sat up higher, but as he did so, it occurred to him that his muscles weren’t as up to speed on the situation. His exhaustion still weighed heavily on his shoulders, and movement proved to be more difficult than speaking. 

“I’m not—what are you talking about?” he asked. A small shiver ran down his spine. 

Tony, who had clearly taken notice of this, tossed over a spare blanket from beside him. Peter muttered out a small ‘thank you’ before wrapping it around his shoulders. 

“Well,” Tony began, draping one leg over the edge of the bed, “for a start, New York has a total of two feet of snow on the ground and our city workers deserve a raise for how long they’ve been plowing the roads. But, that’s beside the point. You, on the other hand, have a total disregard for any obstacle that stands in your way. On a rare occasion, I might admire that, but I also think it’s a massively dumbass move. Care to tell me why you were swinging through the city in the middle of a damn nor’easter?”

Oh. _Oh_. It was hitting him now. Peter _was_ an idiot, and he kind of deserved it. 

Peter groaned as he leaned against his knees. “I’m—I don’t even know anymore,” he stated. “School was canceled, and it was Valentine’s Day, so I thought—”

“Mister Parker, did you have a date?”

“No!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “No. No. Absolutely not. I didn’t—” He sighed. “No, it was nothing. I just wanted to see someone. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not even Valentine’s Day anymore. Wow, two feet of snow?” 

Tony raised a brow as an amused smile played on his lips. “You are such a weird kid,” he said. “And you’re lucky you’re even alive. No more snow swinging. It’s bad for my health.”

“Your health?”

“I had to sit through two EKGs while you were unconscious, kid,” Tony told him, standing. “ _Yes_ , my health. You might’ve nearly died from hypothermia, but I have a heart condition and severe anxiety. I think I have you beat here.”

Peter chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Tony said. “Cos’ without me—” He shrugged dramatically. “—you’d kind of be dead. Yeah? So, really, you should be kissing my feet.”

“I’m not going anywhere near your feet.” 

Tony’s nose scrunched. “I hate the fact that you had to say that. Okay, I take back what I said before. You, get some sleep. You have school tomorrow.”

“Is—where’s May?” Peter asked. He could make sense of his surroundings. Barely. He knew the difference between a hospital room and the med bay upstate. His frequent visits due to being Spider-Man— _and_ being a dumbass, as Tony told him many times—were helpful in distinguishing one from the other. 

“In a guest room down the hall getting Z’s like she’s supposed to,” Tony answered. “ _Your_ room. The one you would’ve had if you hadn’t rejected me so rudely over a year ago. I haven’t forgotten.”

“You haven’t let me live it down.”

“That’s because it’s fun to mess with you.”

“And you think _I’m_ rude.”

Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “ _Sleep_ ,” he said. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

“You’re the one who’s still talking,” Peter muttered, shoving his mentor’s hand away. “I can’t sleep if you don’t leave me alone.” 

Tony let out an offended huff and started toward the door. “Well then,” he said as he turned the knob, “I guess we’re both rude dumbasses. I’ll let your aunt know you’re awake. Oh, and Peter?”

“Did you just call me _Peter?_ ”

“Yeah, uh—anyway—” Tony knocked mindlessly at the door while he searched his thoughts. He seemed hesitant to say anything at all, and the internal battle was evident in his taut expression. Eventually, he exhaled through his nose and said, “don’t do that again. Be stupid, I mean. Don’t—don’t be stupid again. Please.”

Peter furrowed his brows and nodded. If he believed it enough, he would say that Tony was worried. But that idea felt like a pipe dream. Maybe it wasn’t. “Okay,” was all Peter could say. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Tony waved a hand. “Don’t be sorry. You—I don’t want you to… just get some rest.”

Peter watched as Tony shut off the lights and closed the door behind him. Somehow, it was a solemn moment, one Peter couldn’t quite place or understand. At the moment, his mind was too hazy to comprehend the few minutes of conversation, and sleep was quick to envelop him once again. 

The last thing he remembered thinking about was MJ.

* * *

He had been antsy all day. From Physics to Calculus, Peter’s foot was a nonstop tapping machine, and the pencil in his hands had been chewed to bits by lunchtime. Ned took notice from the moment they greeted each other before the first bell, yet he paid little attention to the fact that Peter’s eyes were on anything but him. He had been too busy talking about the seven hours he played PUBG; meanwhile, Peter had been preoccupied with MJ at the end of the hall. Once she shut her locker, her eyes met his, and he zoned right back into his conversation with Ned. 

It felt a little ridiculous. Two days had passed since Peter turned into an icicle, and he hardly had enough time to think about why he behaved so stupidly in the first place. But, the moment MJ looked at him, it hit him like a damn truck on the freeway. That crappy little Valentine’s Day card was most likely on some rooftop, coated in snow and ice as it waited to dissolve with the weather. His harrowing trek had been for nothing. 

At least he learned one thing—spiders didn’t like the cold. 

Peter didn’t have an appetite once noon struck. A soggy chicken patty sat on his lunch tray surrounded by apple wedges and tater tots, and even though his stomach grumbled, he couldn’t fathom the idea of food. Cafeteria food, nonetheless. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Ned asked eventually. He had been talking about… well, truth be told, Peter didn’t know. He hadn’t been listening to anything that anyone had said all day. It didn’t make much of a difference in Dell’s class. For forty-five minutes, the man had been lost in a story about a tarantula he had when he was nine. 

“Me?” Peter let out a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m—yeah. I’m fine. This is the face of someone who is totally fine. Trust me.” 

Ned furrowed his brows. “Okay, well, while you pretend you’re fine, I’m gonna use the bathroom. So, don’t steal my potatoes.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

After Ned excused himself, Peter deflated and rested his chin onto his hand. He would get over it soon; he knew he would. But the conversation he had with Tony was still fresh on his mind, and he could feel MJ’s presence from down the table as if she was sitting right beside him. He had been so _dumb_. Hopelessly, ridiculously, and utterly—

“Hey.”

Peter’s gaze shot up to meet MJ’s. With a raised brow, he sat up straight and tapped at the table. “Uh—h-hi. What’s up?”

She pressed her lips together in a tight smile. “Not much,” she said. “Didn’t see you at school yesterday. Thought you might’ve died or something.” 

Her light chuckle rang in his ears as he attempted to come up with an excuse. He felt a tad bit pathetic, and the awkward tension between them wasn’t helping. She looked nice today. If only he could tell her. 

“Nah,” he mumbled, shrugging. “Almost though. Got a cold.”

MJ hummed and twisted her lips. Before she spoke up again, she reached into the backpack she had propped beside her and pulled out a small piece of paper. A card. A rather sad, wrinkled, and yellowed card. “Does that have anything to do with this?” she asked. 

“Wh—where did you—how…?” Peter blinked as his mouth dried. The tacky Valentine’s Day Card he had gotten for her stared right back at him. 

“Some sweaty guy snuck it into my mailbox,” she said, opening it briefly so she could skim over his poor excuse for handwriting. 

Peter’s heart stammered in his chest. Not only had he forgotten what he wrote to her, but now, the reality of what he had done was settling on his shoulders. He had gotten her a goddamn Valentine’s Day card. And she was talking to him about it as if it was no big deal. 

“Oh, um—” Peter bit the inside of his cheek. It felt as though the walls were closing in on him. He felt like Luke Skywalker in that trash compactor—drowning in filth until his inevitable demise at the hands of a worm-like beast and the encompassing durasteel walls. But even Luke made it out of there alive. Peter was going to be just fine. 

“Thank you,” MJ spoke up before he could fish out words from his useless brain. She smiled weakly. “That was—that was nice of you. To give me a card. I don’t normally get stuff like this so… yeah, thanks.” 

Peter nodded hastily. His tongue felt like a rock in his mouth. “Yeah. Of course. Happy—uh, happy Valentine’s Day. _Belated_. Belated Valentine’s Day.”

MJ nodded as well. “Happy belated Valentine’s Day,” she said as she stood. “Nerd.” 

Peter couldn’t hold back his smile once she left. His stomach filled with a wild array of bugs and butterflies, meanwhile, his cheeks burned red hot. It was only a moment later when Ned returned, and he was quick to notice his best friend’s sudden change in demeanor. 

“Shit, what’d I miss?” he asked, sharing a glance between Peter and MJ as she walked away. 

Peter, whose smile could light a fire, pressed his face in his hands and groaned. “I think I have a crush,” he said. 

Ned scoffed. “You think?”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, you had to have _known_.”

“I said _shut up_ , Ned.”

  
  



End file.
